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BELLS RING THROUGH THE GRANDSTAND, signaling the first race of the day. The shouts and excitement of hopeful men follow as they watch their horses bolt out of the starting gate and down the turf, six furloughs. 

Heavy hooves thrust into the dirt, reins snapping, people shouting. 

The races were always exhilarating to be amongst. People wanted nothing more than the biggest of earnings. People wanted to either maintain their wealth or leave their mundane lives and live extravagantly. 

If she was someone else, she would feel the same as those around her. But she knew what was going on behind the scenes. The odds of the horses, the people who trained them, and so on wouldn't allow her to enjoy the feeling of only relying on luck and anticipation.  Her upbringing didn't allow for fun. 

Her upbringing only allowed her to be taught to be a woman of class and high status. 

Her world originates in New York City, New York.  She adored it greatly but now it is only a place she could appreciate from afar. She'd grown amongst the businessmen, wolves in sheep's clothing that tried to convince the rest of the world they were there for the good of the world. Her roots were planted there but her greatest desires would be planted in the country of England where she stood. 

This place would be the new garden where she would grow and establish her own place. She'd create the place that she's loved even more than her childhood home-- the racetrack. 

In the shadow of her father, a man who established himself in the horse racing industry after his father. The men in her family were of great importance. Her grandfather, a man of honor and dedication, had made a name for himself in America. He'd been an immigrant who became one of the richest men in his time, a prominent figure in thoroughbred horse racing. 

However, she'd only known him as grandpa. He was the patriarch of her family who ensured the success of his children. He was a man who adored the strength that family brought, if only his children believed those things as strongly as he did.Her father did emphasize those things in a less than conventional way. 

She owed her father everything, for he was the one who brought her to this point in her life and made her who she was. Successful and moving to be even better than he was. 

Angelina Caroline Belmont, the only daughter of legendary August Belmont and soon-to-be the legitimate business owner of "Belmont Company, Inc." in England. It was to be an extension and a branch out from the established business in America. Not that she could get away from her title as a shareholder of her grandfather's business and CEO of her father's. 

The horses rounded the corner of the track for the last stretch. Her eyes focused intently on the two leading the race. At this point, the jockey's moved into gear, pushing their horses to become faster, to make it to the finish line first. 

But her eyes shifted, a horse that had been running at a decent pace in the middle of the others was picking up incredible speed fast. 

Hopefuls shouted in disbelief as Winter's Day pulled ahead of her opponents. Winter's Day would win. People pulled away from the stands to the betting halls, ready to try and turn the tide in their favor or in victory to continue their victory streak. 

She remained for a little bit, taking in the energy before she pulled herself away. She was walking among the common folk. 

The Cheltenham Racecourse was a sight to behold. She wanted to appreciate every bit of it before her meeting with a man by the name of Billy Kimber. 

Many looks were thrown at her as she made her way around. She simply ignored them, feeling slight pity that they would continue to lay their bets on fixed races but her father always told her the gears of the industry always have to keep turning. 

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋,   𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲.Where stories live. Discover now